


The Commander’s Boots

by spacegoth



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Boot Worship, Collars, Creampie, Humiliation, Kinktober 2017, Knotting, M/M, Master/Slave, Mildly Dubious Consent, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Xenophilia, ridiculous amounts of alien body fluids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-24
Updated: 2017-10-24
Packaged: 2019-01-21 15:25:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12460566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacegoth/pseuds/spacegoth
Summary: Shiro becomes very familiar with Galra boot leather. Sendak rewards him for his service.





	The Commander’s Boots

When they weren't in armor, most of the Galra who didn't go barefoot wore leather boots. Not Earth leather, of course, but something close enough in look and texture that Shiro thought it must have been the cured hide of some animal. The only difference between Commander Sendak's boots and ones any biker on Earth might wear is that they had split toes to accommodate his massive, clawed feet. He was becoming quite an expert in Sendak's boots, actually, because he was down on hands and knees with his head bent down to lick them. 

Sendak did not speak to him while Shiro was working his boot-leather with his tongue, but would now and then nudge him—gently or not so gently—with his other boot, to let him know how he was doing. A toe in his side, almost painfully, when he was falling short. An almost-caressing nudge of the side of his boot against Shiro's face when he was performing well. The taste of it was familiar now; he'd done this enough to know it intimately. With his fingers curled into claws, Shiro lost himself in it. He thrusts his ass humiliatingly high up, his knees trembling, kissing and licking wet strokes along the commander's boots and grinding his hips into the the empty air. When Sendak let out a long, low groan of appreciation Shiro shuddered and pressed his cheek into the supple leather he'd slickened with his tongue.

Sendak lifted his other foot and rested the heel carefully on the back of Shiro's neck. He could struggle free, he had no doubt of that. This was not a display of strength. This was a reminder: _look where you are_. Shiro moaned against the leather, harsh and low. What would the people he left on Earth think, if they could see him now? Moaning beneath the boot of an alien warrior? What would the other _Galra_ say? Did they know what their Commander did with his human protege, when the doors of his quarters slid closed behind them and he closed his collar around Shiro's neck?

Sendak lifted his foot away. "Up," the commander said, and Shiro obeyed, standing in a smooth and practiced motion. He was naked except for the collar he wore. It was thick, black, made from the same leather as Sendak's boots. Like wearing a piece of his owner. _What if he wants me to leave it on?_ Shiro swallowed down a feeling he could not name, halfway between fear and need. _What if he wants to show everyone that he owns me like this?_

Sendak said nothing while he disrobed, and Shiro remained motionless, his arms behind his back like a soldier standing at ease. It was easy to fall into the positions drilled into him at the Garrison when he was with the commander, and Sendak seemed to respond well to it; apart from their _vrepit sa_ salute, the Galra did not have much in the ways of formal protocol, but the small touches of Earth protocol that Shiro had shown had never been unappreciated, even though they had never been explained. Sendak seemed to know, instinctively, they were gestures of respect to a superior.

Naked, the Galra commander looked, if anything, more threatening than in his uniform—more animalistic, more dangerous. His fur was a deep purple; the scar at his shoulder where his prosthetic arm connected a pinkish-purple knot. At the juncture between his legs his cock was half out of its furred sheath: a paler purple, shading to pink at the tip, thicker than any human cock, with a knot of muscle halfway down the shaft. He was dripping with precum—Galra produced vast amounts of it—and with a soft grunt of effort extruded his cock to its full length. Shiro swallowed; the commander's cock was always an intimidating sight, no matter how many times he had seen it before.

"Come here," Sendak said; Shiro obeyed. The commander hooked a clawed finger between the collar and Shiro's throat, and he hitched a breath, eyes fluttering half-closed. Sendak pulled at the collar, just a little, and Shiro stepped closer still, until his hard nipples brushed at the fur of Sendak's chest. He held him there for a long, breathless moment, then released him...only for his other hand, his massive prosthetic claw, to grab Shiro by the chest and slam him into the wall halfway across the room. 

He held him pinned there, walking closer almost casually, the quintessence of his arm crackling as the distance between them closed. Then he lifted him, sliding him up against the wall, and kicked Shiro's legs apart with his knee. The head of his cock pressed against Shiro's ass and pumped out two massive spurts of precum—the Galra could produce it at will, Shiro had learned, as a kind of natural lubricant. It was something he had long been grateful for. 

Slickened by his own precum, Sendak pressed his cock home. The head of his cock slid in easily—Shiro gasped when the knot came, still, every time. Sendak growled low in his throat as he slowly sank himself inside Shiro's ass. His prosthetic claw held Shiro up against the wall effortlessly as he started to rock back and forth, not quite thrusting but sliding that knot in and out, and every time he did Shiro's ass tightened around it involuntarily and his own cock leapt as it stretched him out so slow and sweet. 

"Little Champion," Sendak rumbled, with strange affection. "This is how you serve me best. Not down there in the arena. Not on the battlefield. Like _this_ , tight around me."

The commander did not expect him to respond—which was good, because the words were being fucked out of him, slow and steady. The world had darkened to a single point in time and space: him, and Sendak, and Sendak's thick cock filling him.

Sendak closed his own hand around Shiro's throat and gave a gentle squeeze. "If only I could breed you, Champion. _Shiro_. You would be full of me always."

In that moment, Shiro would have begged for it, if he could, if he had the words left to beg. Instead he whimpered the commander's name, so softly, but loud enough for Sendak's sensitive ears to hear. He growled again, that deep almost purr-like rumble that meant he was very pleased indeed, and with a hard rock of his hips he began to come.

Galra could come for much longer, and came much more, than any human—that was another thing Shiro had learned. Sendak liked to fuck him full of his slickening precum and then pump him with even more of his come. He felt himself getting full of it, dizzingly full, and when Sendak slid his cock free it dripped audibly on the floor of the commander's quarters. Shiro moaned; he knew Sendak would have him clean it up with his tongue when they were done, and could not tell whether he dreaded it, or could not wait.


End file.
